Winter Love Part 18

"Sure she would. The preacher wrote it on her birth certificate. Jolie Thomas. She'll have that name until she gets married."

"I'll have to think on it," Taylor said, then resumed eating his supper.

Laura waited until the last crumb of pasty had disappeared and she and Taylor were having a cup of coffee before she started reminiscing of bygone days. She started by recalling out loud how she and Taylor and Fletch had been crushed by the death of mother Marie shortly after Laura's tenth birthday.

"It was a sad time," Taylor agreed. "She was the backbone of our small family. I never realized it until she was gone. She was the only mother you and Fletch had ever known. Especially Fletch. Marie came into his life when he was only a month old."

"You've never talked about your first wife, Pa," Laura said.

"No, I haven't," Taylor said after a short pause. "It's such a long time ago that I lost her. Thirty years now." His eyes took on a look of remembering.

"Mavis was my first love, the love of my youth. She was the prettiest little thing, curly blond hair, so delicate; much too delicate to give birth to Fletch. She lived only long enough to gaze a few minutes at her son and to make me promise that I would marry a nice woman who would raise her baby, be good to him. She closed her lovely blue eyes then and was gone."

"I didn't love Marie when I married her a month later, nor did she love me. I was still eaten up with grief over losing Mavis, but I needed someone to take care of my son. An Indian maiden had been tending Fletch, but suddenly her people were moving their wigwams several miles away and she wanted to go with them. She didn't want to be parted from her intended."

"A week before she left, Marie came to live with an aunt and uncle over on Camp Lake. She was a comely looking young woman with a gentle nature. I knew the first time I met her that she would be good to my boy."

"When I asked her to marry me the next day, she was reluctant. She knew nothing about me except that I was grieving over a dead wife and that I had a baby who needed tending. I'm sure she was pressured by her relatives to accept my proposal. At any rate, we were married the day before the young Indian woman took off with her people."

"I never dreamed that I could love again, but over the years I grew to love Marie dearly. Who could not love such a gentle woman?"

"Then, after she pa.s.sed away, several months later to my surprise I found that I could love a third time. One day while fis.h.i.+ng for brook trout I met b.u.t.terfly digging roots in the forest. I was struck by her beauty right off and felt like a teenager falling in love for the first time. I was so taken with her, I didn't even notice when a big trout swam by and took my bait along with my pole."

"b.u.t.terfly laughed so hard she had to sit down. As we talked, I learned that she too had lost a mate a couple years back but hadn't found a man in her village she would want to marry. Before we parted, we made plans to meet the next afternoon at the same place. We met like that once a week until cold weather set in. That's when b.u.t.terfly invited me to come to her wigwam."

Taylor heaved a long sigh. "After seeing her every night all winter, it's going to be hard only visiting her on a Thursday."

"That's another good reason the two of you should get married," Laura said. "Hey, who's minding the store?" Laura and Taylor recognized Daniel's deep voice in the other room.

"I'll be right with you," Laura called, standing up and handing Jolie back to Taylor. "I won't be gone long," she said. "Daniel's not one to stand around and gab."

"Take your time. Me and this little girl are going to play horsey."

It was while Taylor bounced Jolie on his good leg and her laughing eyes gleamed her pleasure that he gave a sudden start. He was remembering his description of Fletch's mother. He had said that she was a pretty little thing with her curly blond hair, then mentioned her lovely blue eyes.

It hit him like a rock to his stomach when he realized who Jolie had always reminded him of Thirty years had dimmed his memory of his young first wife until he talked of her to Laura. Was it possible that Fletch was this little one's father?

Taylor commanded his racing pulse to calm down. It could be just a coincidence that both Jolie and Mavis had pale hair and blue eyes. A glint appeared in his eyes. He would tell Fletcher how the baby resembled his dead mother, then ask him straight out if he had ever made love to Laura. He didn't believe, or at least hoped, that his son wouldn't lie to him.

Taylor was still unconsciously bouncing Jolie on his knee when Laura walked back in the room. "I was right." She smiled. "Daniel asked for a spool of thread, paid for it, and after asking about my and Jolie's health he left."

Taylor forced an answering smile. "Yeah, Daniel is a man of few words. There's never any idle talk from him." Laura began to get nervous. It was getting dark outside, time to say a silent good-bye to this man she loved so dearly.

"I guess I'd better get going, Pa," she said huskily. "Jolie is getting sleepy and I still have to bathe her." When she took the baby from him, she kissed Taylor's cheek, saying softly, "I love you, Pa."

"I love you, too, daughter." Surprise flickered in Taylor's eyes. Laura hadn't kissed him in a long time.

Chapter Nineteen.

The first pink of dawn was coloring the eastern sky as Laura sat down at the kitchen table to write her good-bye letter to Taylor. She chewed on the stub of pencil a moment, then began to write.

Dear Pa, Writing this letter is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I am taking Jolie and leaving Big Pine. I have come to the realisation that my daughter has no future here. She will always be looked down upon and shunned as I have been. I do not want her to experience that pain.

I know that what I write next are empty words, but please try not to worry about us too much. I have a place to go to. It's not like I'm just striking off through the wilderness.

Pa, there are not enough words to explain how sorry I am for the pain I have caused you even though I loved you with all my heart while I was inflicting that pain on you. I will think of you every day and love you until the day I die. Please take care of yourself and say good-bye to b.u.t.terfly for me. Give some thought to what we discussed about her.

Your loving daughter, Laura.

Propping the letter against the lamp where Taylor wouldn't miss it when he came for breakfast, she shrugged into her lightweight jacket and walked over to gaze down on her sleeping daughter. Working carefully so as not to awaken her, she wrapped a heavy blanket around Jolie and placed her in a hooded papoose carrying case that Little Fox had made for her. When Jolie was safely strapped inside the woven leather cradle, she lifted it to her back and settled the handles over her shoulders. Taking one last look around the kitchen, choking back tears, she took up the saddlebag and the rifle leaning beside the door and stepped outside.

Laura paused on the porch to untie Brave, who jumped around her, whining a greeting.

Then she set out for the barn.

In the dim interior of the small log building she bridled and saddled the mare mainly by touch. She led Beauty outside and it began to rain as she tightened the belly cinch. It was not a downpour but a steady, straight-down fall of water. And though it would wash away Beauty's tracks, for which Laura was grateful, it felt icy cold as she grasped the pommel and pulled herself onto the mare's back.

As Beauty pulled out, Laura had no fear of Jolie getting wet. The hood attached to the cradle extended well over Jolie's head and face, and the tanned bearskin that covered it all was liberally rubbed with bear grease. The rain would roll right off it.

The gray of dawn had arrived under the cloudy sky when Laura guided the mare into a stand of pine several yards from the Indian village where she would not miss seeing Little Fox take his leave of it. When she had been waiting about fifteen minutes and the boy hadn't appeared, she began to wonder. Had she arrived too late? Had Little Fox already left?

She saw him then, hurrying through the rain, the fringe on his leggings swaying back and forth with each step his moccasined feet took. A quiver of arrows was slung over his shoulder, and in his hand was a st.u.r.dy-looking bow. Laura shook her head. That was all the lad had for protection in his search for manhood.

Little Fox took off to his right, following a path along the lake. Laura nudged Beauty into motion, keeping within the forest, out of the boy's sight, It was sometimes difficult to keep up with him, for he ran at a trot and the trees grew so closely together she sometimes lost sight of him as she guided Beauty through the trunks.

Taylor awakened to gray skies and falling rain. He lay staring up at the low ceiling, his mood as dismal as the weather. He didn't look forward to the day ahead.

Last night as he tried to go to sleep he decided that he was too upset to wait for Fletch to come home so that he could confront him with his suspicions. So this morning he planned to make Laura tell him what in the h.e.l.l was going on between them.

But as he pulled on his trousers and boots he wondered if he should talk to Laura alone. Maybe the best thing to do was wait for Fletcher to come home, then face them together about Jolie. But it was going to be hard to keep his mouth shut as he had breakfast with Laura.

Limping toward the cabin a few minutes later, Taylor was surprised to see no smoke coming from the chimney. It was unusual for Laura to oversleep. And where was that d.a.m.n wild dog that had tried to take his arm off yesterday? he wondered, stepping up on the porch.

A chill ran through Taylor when he pushed open the door and stepped inside the kitchen. He knew instantly that the cabin was empty. He felt the stove and found it cold. There had not been a fire in it since yesterday.

Even though he knew the search would be fruitless, he walked through the family room and looked into the two bedrooms. Laura's bed was neatly made up and Jolie's little cradle sat at the foot of it.

Taylor walked back into the kitchen, his brow furrowed with worry. What had happened to Laura and the baby? Had renegade Indians come in the night and carried them away? Why hadn't that vicious dog raised h.e.l.l, alerting him to her danger?

His eyes fell on the sheet of paper propped against the lamp, and with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach he hurried to s.n.a.t.c.h it up. When he had quickly scanned the short letter, his eyes glazed over and he sat down, shocked to his soul.

That foolish girl, he thought, his hands clenched to fists on his knees. Where had she gone? Who would she go to? Did anyone go with her? Maybe Hunter? They were on very friendly terms. But he was supposed to marry Agnes Morse any day.

As Taylor sat in the grayness of the kitchen, questions running through his mind, he slowly came to the conclusion that Laura hadn't gone off with anyone. She had taken her little girl and gone off on her own.

But where to? Would she try to make it to the nearest big city? Detroit perhaps? He jumped to his feet. She couldn't have too long a head start. He would get some men together and track her down.

Taylor walked back to the post as fast as his leg would permit and began pulling on the rope attached to the bell on top of the building. It was rung only in an emergency.

Men, women, and children started piling out of their cabins, unmindful of the rain falling on their heads. "What is it, Taylor?" someone called. "Is the post on fire? I don't smell any smoke."

"I wish to G.o.d that's all it was." Taylor's eyes ranged over the wild-eyed group, touching on every woman who had ever gossiped about Laura, shaming her, bringing tears to her lovely eyes. His voice was like ice when he said, "Due to you mean gossipmongers, and you all know who you are, you have forced Laura to take her little girl and run away. IF anything has happened to her and that little one, be ready to pack up and get the h.e.l.l out of here."

He looked at the shamefaced husbands and said with some sarcasm, "I would like for you men to join me in a search for Laura." Taylor paused, added, "If your wives will let you, that is."

"Have no fear about that," one husband spoke up, giving his wife a look that made her cringe. Other wives were getting the same dire looks from their mates as Hunter said quietly, "This rain will have washed away her tracks, Taylor. Do you know if she's walking or riding?"

"I don't know, Hunter," Taylor answered distractedly. "I was so upset after reading her letter, I didn't think to go to the barn and see if the mare was gone. She took the dog, though."

"Let's go take a look." Hunter nudged Taylor ahead of him.

To soothe the man he liked and respected so highly, the bartender said, "Laura will be fine if she took that dog of hers along. That's the meanest d.a.m.n animal that ever lived. I heard that when he lived with the Indians one time he took on three wolves at once and killed every one of them."

"He couldn't stand up against a bullet, though," Taylor answered glumly. "What if she runs into some of those rough loggers or renegades?"

"Put that thought out of your head, Taylor," Hunter said as he swung open the door to the st.u.r.dy building that housed the Thomases' three horses and cow. When they found Beauty's stall empty, both men were relieved somewhat. Taylor began saddling his horse, and Hunter hurried off to ready his roan. When Taylor returned to the post, some 20 mounted men were waiting for him. Their wives, who had made Laura's life so miserable, had slunk off, avoiding each other's eyes.

"The rain has washed away all traces of Laura's mare," Taylor said when the slicker-clad riders had nudged their mounts up around him. "I guess the best thing to do is split up, half going to the right and the others left. Be sure to spread out so that every inch of the forest is covered. If one of you should find her, bring her back here and ring the bell. Otherwise we'll meet back here at sundown."

When the men had ridden out of sight, Big Bertha said to the other three women who had stayed, "Maida, you and Justine and Agnes come home with me and have some coffee. Laura's leaving has floored me, and I'd like to talk to her friends about it. I had no idea she meant to go away. Where in the world could she have gone?"

"Thank goodness," Laura muttered when after about four hours Little Fox stopped and sat down to rest. Jolie had awakened and was making hungry noises. If she didn't get something to eat pretty soon, the forest would ring with her angry cries. Laura leaned over and took from the saddlebag a short stop of pemmican, a small knife, and a long strip of rawhide. With the sharp point of the blade she bored a hole in one end of the meat mixture, threaded the strip of leather through it, and tied it off.

Jolie readily took it, and her two teeth on top and two on the bottom chewed at it greedily. After about five minutes Little Fox was on his feet and off again.

The rain continued to fall but not as heavily. It bothered Laura little, for now she rode beneath a canopy of trees that was like a huge umbrella. Still, she was damp to the skin and wished that she could sit in front of a roaring fire and warm her cold flesh.

Little Fox didn't stop for a noon meal. She saw him reach into a small pouch at his waist and pull out his own strip of pemmican. Jolie had fallen asleep again, and Laura tied the other end of the rawhide to one of the shoulder handles. It easily reached Jolie's mouth and would not fall to the ground and be lost. Indian mothers used this method to pacify their babies all the time. It was equivalent to a white mother's sugar teat.

The wet forest was so still, Laura was intensely conscious of the wilderness crowding in on her as she rode. The mare seemed attuned to her uneasiness as she nervously picked her way through the trees.

"It's all right, Beauty," she said, patting the mare on the shoulder. "We'll be just fine."

Because of the gloomy wet skies and early dusk setting in, up ahead Laura saw Little Fox stop for the night. Her eyes searched for a spot that would s.h.i.+eld her and Jolie from the weather.

She spotted it, a tall pine with thick branches that swept the ground. It would probably be quite dry close to its huge trunk. There would also be small broken limbs, and resin-filled needles to kindle a fire with. Little Fox wouldn't be able to see a small fire through the heavy foliage. And the slight wind against her face would carry the scent of smoke away from him.

She reined Beauty in and slid off her back. She was about to crawl beneath the tree when she heard a rustling behind her and the dog growled low in his throat. She spun around, and her heart seemed to jump to her throat. A wolf stood only feet away, his gray body taut, his eyes red as he stood ready to spring at her. Every instinct in her urged her to run, but she was afraid to take the chance. The wolf could outdistance her, and Jolie was strapped on her back. He would get the baby first.

Suddenly the dog was in front of her, lunging at the wolfs throat. She saw his snapping teeth close around his mark. She felt as though the two animals rolled around on the wet ground for hours, but actually only about five minutes had pa.s.sed when the wolf lay dead at the dog's feet.

Her heart racing, Laura gulped in deep breaths as her eyes scanned the forest for more wolves. When the dog lay down at her feet, breathing heavily, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, she knew there would be no more danger from wolves tonight. She quieted the mare down with soothing words, and was surprised that Jolie had slept through it all.

Laura crawled beneath the tree, and it was as she had expected. The rain had barely penetrated the heavy branches. She sc.r.a.ped twigs and needles together, took a match from her pocket, and struck it beneath the pile. When the dry material caught and flamed, she went back to Beauty and slid the saddle and bags off her back. Setting them aside, she led the mare up close to the pine tree and tied her to a branch.

With the dog close on her heels, she crawled back under the tree and slid the cradle board holding Jolie off her back. She placed it close enough to the fire so that Jolie could feel its heat, but well away from the flames. The little one was still sleeping. Ordering the dog to stay beside her, Laura went searching for more wood.

Within five minutes she returned, dragging a good-sized tree length of dead, seasoned maple. It would burn all night.

Squatting before the fire, she had barely warmed her chilled hands when Jolie awakened and began to fuss. Laura hurried to slip the pemmican between the child's small lips, hoping that would keep her content until she could fry up some salt pork.

She had become adept at cooking over an open fire in her camping trips with Taylor, and it was but a short time before the meat was sizzling in a battered frying pan and coffee was brewing in an equally beat-up coffeepot. As she turned the slices of meat over with her knife, she planned to set a snare before she went to bed. She felt sure she would catch a rabbit overnight.

While the meager supper continued cooking, Laura used her knife to cut branches off the tree and spread them on the ground. When she had a layer about six inches thick she covered the branches with the tarpaulin, then smoothed the blankets over them.

By then the meat was cooked to a crispy state and the coffee was ready. She took Jolie out of the carrier and, holding her in her lap, broke off small pieces of meat and fed them to her. When the child refused to eat any more, Laura changed her diaper and laid her down on the bed of pine. She and the dog then shared the meat and bread.

As Laura sat before the fire, fas.h.i.+oning her hair in a long braid, the dog lay down beside her and rested his head in her lap. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and she could hear the steady drip of water falling off the lofty pine to the ground. She thought that by now Pa would have found her letter. Her eyes grew wet. He would be so upset.

The glimmer of a pale moon shone through the branches, and Laura gave a tired yawn. The strain of the day had caught up with her. She rose and, walking just a few steps from under the tree, she answered a call of nature, then set her trap. Back at the fire she removed only her shoes and crawled between the blankets of her pine-scented bed and pulled Jolie up close beside her. As she fell asleep she was full of bitterness toward Fletcher. Because of him, her life had been turned upside down.

The wind moaned in the trees, but the rain had finally stopped as Fletcher and Red Fox sat before their campfire finis.h.i.+ng a meal of roasted rabbit.

It was the second day of their hunt, and yesterday they had been quite successful. Each one had shot a doe which now hung high in a tree, safe from marauding wolves.

They could have headed home this afternoon instead of spending another night in the forest, but both men felt the need to get away from their people for a while.

Red Fox studied his white friend's face through the leaping flames. Fletch didn't have his old fervent zeal for life anymore. He had gone through a big change the past year and a half Most of the wildness had gone out of him, and a brooding darkness replaced the crooked smile that used to hover over his lips. And where had the devilish gleam in his dark eyes gone?

What had caused all of this? the Indian wondered. Had something happened in Canada that had changed him so, or had it come about when he returned to Big Pine?

Watching Fletch through lowered lids, he said, "I saw Laura and her daughter the other day. The little fair-headed one has certainly grown."

The way Fletch's body stiffened at his remarks gave Red Fox the answer to his friend's radical change. As he had half expected, Laura was the cause of the pain that lurked in the depths of his dark eyes. His friend loved his father's wife. A heavy burden for a white man to carry.

Red Fox mentally shook his head. Palefaces took everything so seriously, always reluctant to let go what couldn't be changed. The red man, however, accepted what blows he was given and got on with his life.

"Do you remember my first wife, Bluebird?" Red Fox broke the short silence that had fallen.

"Yes, I remember her," Fletch answered, seeing the feisty little wife in his mind's eye. "She was very beautiful, and you had a hard time not to act the besotted fool over her."

"Yes." Red Fox's lips curved in a sad, crooked smile. "She was my whole world. For a time it ended when she died giving birth to Little Fox. But after a while the Indian bows to the dictates of his G.o.d. The Great Father had a purpose in taking Bluebird away from me, and after a month of grieving her loss, I replaced her with her younger sister, Rippling Waters. She had been taking care of Little Fox since he was born and she loved him very much. Being his aunt, she would be good to him, I knew. That is not always so when you put a woman over another woman's children. When their own come along, they might neglect the ones who came with the marriage. I could not let that happen to Bluebird's son."

"So you didn't marry for love the second time?" Fletch looked questioningly at his friend.